Princess of Silence, page 2
part #1 of When Kings Collide Series
That would come later, at dinner. Though Katherine had done her best to answer what she could, signaling when possible, it was truly up to her lady-in-waiting, Joan, to answer on her behalf. Joan was almost always by Katherine’s side for just this purpose, if nothing else, and while Philip seemed bothered by her presence at first, he eventually began to adjust his conversation to include questions that Joan could answer for the princess. Thus, Philip began to speak about Katherine in her presence as if she was not there. She was used to this as most people had done the same as far back as she could remember, but she had hoped it would be different with her husband-to-be. That first night, it had become apparent to Katherine that there was no chance that she could ever fall in love with King Philip.
This had only been mildly disappointing. She did not trust men as a general rule, and seeing Philip as a potential love interest would only complicate her feelings about members of the opposite sex. She did find him attractive, though. There was something about his rugged appearance, his strong square jaw, the way he commanded the room, which stirred feelings inside of Katherine that she had never experienced before. She couldn’t quite explain even to herself what this feeling was, but she noticed it each time he was near, and it both alarmed and excited her. This was further complicated by the fact that she quickly confirmed Philip was a terrible person, and she was terrified of being left alone with him, especially in the dark.
In the dimly lit passages of Castle Meadington, Katherine had heard stories of King Philip’s crimes against humanity, particularly against the citizens of Zurconia, their beloved queen, and her loving husband. She had thought, at the time, before she came to Blackthorn, perhaps these were just rumors. The people of Meadington liked to tell stories, to elaborate. The tales made her uncomfortable, but she did her best to stay true to the man she would marry and give him the benefit of the doubt.
Then, she’d come to Blackthorn and found they weren’t made-up stories at all. The same rumors she’d heard before she’d come to meet her husband-to-be echoed from the lips of the servants here when they assumed no one was listening. Though Katherine was indifferent to the idea of marrying Philip, or anyone for that matter, she did not approve of his tactics, and her heart ached for the captured king she knew dwelt somewhere within the walls of Castle Blackthorn. If Philip could be so cruel to King Matthew and his wife, who was to say he wouldn’t do something similar to her?
In the few days she had lived within the damp, moss-covered walls of the sprawling complex of winding passages, secret hallways, and cavernous tunnels known as Blackthorn, she had yet to discover where the captured king was being held. Just as she was able to pass almost undetected through the maze in her own home of Meadington, she quickly learned to navigate through Blackthorn without as much as an inquisitive glance from the other inhabitants. With little else to keep her occupied during the day, she had decided to use these skills to begin her quest to find King Matthew, though she had no idea what she might do if she were able to locate him. It wasn’t as if she’d ever have the power to set him free, not even once she became queen.
So far, she had only covered a small portion of the fortress, but she knew that, if she continued to use her ability to listen in on secretive conversations to her advantage, she would soon ascertain exactly where the widower king was living out his numbered days.
In the meantime, she knew Philip had plans to draw out Matthew’s beloved brother and finish him off in one apocalyptic battle. She heard members of the military discussing strategies behind closed doors and even in the hallway. His plans were faulty, however. Philip wasn’t winning this war as easily as he had when Zurconia had been the goal, and with the king preoccupied with defeating King Caleb of Arteria, it seemed Katherine’s wedding just might have to wait. The princess was not upset by this in the least.
Philip’s frustration at the situation came through in every conversation, every order, every flinch of his fist, and grimace on his handsome face. The walls were whispering again, and Katherine would use their information for her gain. She knew there was not much she would be able to do to help the captive king once his location was determined, but she felt compelled to find him as quickly as possible, and she had learned from experience to listen to that small voice inside.
Though it was still relatively early, the halls were beginning to bustle with activity. Katherine knew that she had been right to initially question whether those rumbles the night before had been of a more sinister nature. Something was astir.
When she’d first arrived, Philip had mentioned the possibility of spending a great deal of time with Katherine, but that had been nothing more than wishful thinking on his part. Katherine knew she probably would not see him much, if it all, that day. She might dine with him for the evening meal if his schedule allowed. If not, she’d eat in her own chambers with Joan, thankful that she was only required to share the company of someone she cared for.
Back in the more familiar area of Blackthorn, Katherine continued to munch on her apple as she made her way into the library. This was one of her favorite places at Blackthorn and one of the only rooms with enough natural light to be considered acceptable in Katherine’s opinion. She also found that, due to the close proximity to the war room, many interesting conversations took place in this space, often without any acknowledgement whatsoever that she was even present. She found out a lot of information from her “fellow bibliophiles” and spent many hours gathering tidbits while snuggled in a comfortable chair under the sheepskin blanket near the fireplace.
The princess selected one of her favorite books from a shelf by the window, assumed her normal seat, and almost lost herself in an incredible story from a far-off land just before she detected footsteps outside of the door. With hushed voices, two men entered the room, and her eyes ceased scanning the words while the story she was weaving quickly lost every ounce of fiction.
Katherine knew that Philip’s Uncle Edward was one of the men who had entered the room before she even heard his voice. Approaching sixty and suffering from complications from obesity, Edward carried around him a distinct cloud of odiferous objectionable identifiers. A pungent mixture of salve, herbal remedies, and body odor, Edward announced his pending arrival moments before he actually reached one’s field of vision. He also walked with a scraping limp, which would have aided even the weakest-of-nose in determining his identity before he drew near.
“The Tower at Glendor should have held. I cannot for the life of me understand how it was breached. Two thousand men. Two thousand men!” he spat at whomever was accompanying him. Katherine still could not tell who the slighter of the two men was, perhaps a leader of one of Philip’s armies or another of his advisors. She held her book still in front of her, the apple core in her hand dangling in front of her chin as she listened.
The two men were still out of her direct line of vision, but Katherine could see their shadows just inside the doorway. It was as if they had ducked in to speak in private, not realizing, or perhaps not caring, that Katherine was also in the room.
“Yes, sir,” the other man replied. Katherine heard the clanking of chainmail, an indicator that this man was part of Philip’s army. “We believed the wall to be impenetrable, particularly so near the tower, but they found a way to get through. We had them outnumbered two-to-one! But, well,” he stammered, apparently still unsure of exactly how to explain what had happened, “once they broke the line, the troops began to fall back. I could not… we could not hold them.”
Edward slammed his fist against the wall. Katherine jumped as the reverberation filled the space around her. They still did not take note of her presence. “Listen, Cuthbert,” he said, pounding the soldier on the arm, “It does not matter to me what you thought could or could not happen. What has transpired is that the Arterian Army is pouring past our last line of defense. At the current rate, they will be standing in these very halls in less than two weeks. That does not happen. Re-gather your troops. Form a new last line of defense. Use the thick swamp of the Lowetian Forest to your advantage, and hem them in. King Philip may not understand the implications of this breach, but I do!” There was another blow to the wall, this one even harder. Edward, unable to control his rage, grabbed Cuthbert and slammed him up against the hard oak door. “This infiltration goes no further! Find a way to stop them!”
Cuthbert grimaced, his air cut off from the large, gnarly hand near his throat. Katherine tried not to gasp as she watched the soldier struggling to breathe. “Yes, yes sir. I will.”
Edward stared forebodingly at the smaller man. “Good.” He patted Cuthbert on the shoulder, a jarring motion that did not match his affirmative words. “Good, you do that. You find a way. Or else, I am holding you personally responsible.” He finally released Cuthbert, who reached up to rub his arm but thought better of it, though it was likely already beginning to ache. “Now, let’s go up to the tower and pay our guest a visit. Let’s see if we can get him to tell us some information that will be helpful to our cause.” Edward began his slow, cacophonous march out of the library and down the hall, Cuthbert behind him.
Katherine waited a moment for them to move away from the door. She knew they were going to see King Matthew, and she wanted to follow them, but she also wanted to avoid being detected. There was no way they would knowingly let her trail after them. At least now she knew Matthew was being held in one of the towers. Unfortunately, Castle Blackthorn had several ominous black towers with high, pointed parapets that jetted out of the structure like thorns. She heard Edward down the hall, approaching a turn, and decided it was time to follow.
Silently placing the book back on the shelf, she tossed the apple core out the window and then made her way to the door, peeking down the hall before opening it and slipping out. She could just see the heel of Cuthbert’s black military boot rounding the corner to the right. She knew that the hall only had one possible next turn, to the left, so she took extra precaution to be quiet as she made her way after them.
She almost didn’t make it to the end in time to see where the pair went. It was not to the left as she had anticipated. The princess watched as the two men created an opening in the wall. There had to be a secret button somewhere that caused the wall to slide open.
Katherine ducked around the corner, just in time to avoid being seen by Edward as he glanced over his crooked shoulder to make sure they were not being followed. Then, he and his still visibly shaken minion disappeared into what should have been solid stone, and the wall closed behind them.
Katherine hesitated. Knowing there was a secret passage in the wall got her that much closer to finding Matthew, yet following now could be extremely dangerous. She was not sure what might be on the other side of the secret door. It could be an easily navigable path that allowed her to follow in secret, or she could find herself in a situation where she was trapped. It would not be easy to explain what she was doing in a secret passage, especially without being able to speak, so she needed to be extremely cautious. Edward did not seem the type to show leniency to snooping newcomers.
She decided to wait. If Edward and Cuthbert came out the same way that they went in, there was a good possibility that she would be able to find Matthew without having to follow anyone. If they did not, that meant there were other secret passages here, and she may have more trouble. Nevertheless, she now knew two critical pieces of information: Matthew was being held in a tower, and the way to reach him lie somewhere within the walls of Castle Blackthorn. Katherine retreated back into the shadows, prepared to wait as long as necessary.
Chapter 3
Matthew sprawled on his straw mattress, attempting to avoid the prickly pieces of hay sticking out in all directions from almost every inch of the ancient, rotting material. He always had plenty of warning when Edward was making his ascent up the stairwell right outside of his abode. Either the stench would hit him full in the face first, or he would hear the thumping, scraping sound of his useless foot as he struggled to pull it up the stairs. Today, it had been the smell that reached him first. Matthew let out a sigh and ran a hand through his hair.
Edward never visited alone. He always had one or two lackeys with him to do his dirty work. Just thinking about his last visit left Matthew rubbing his jaw and feeling for the healing gashes covering his back and shoulders. He did not look forward to Edward stopping by, but it usually meant that Caleb was winning, and if Caleb was winning, then, perhaps, he would be free soon.
Or, on the other hand, if Caleb was winning, it might mean Matthew was soon to meet his executioner.
Either way, he wouldn’t be spending too much more time in this filthy hovel, so Edward’s visits were not as negative as one might think.
There was no way for Matthew to actually see who was at the door. Only a small slot, surrounded by black iron, broke the solid wood, and it was covered by a swinging door. Once a day, some poor hack from the kitchen would slide him a small portion of gruel through the opening. That was his only contact with the outside world, other than visits from Edward or Philip.
If the king really wanted to know who was coming, he supposed he could get down on his knees and peek through the little slot to view the person’s shins, but there wasn’t much sense in that. So he waited patiently for Edward to make his way to the top of the stairs, curious as to whether or not the jingling of chainmail was one lackey or two.
A rattle of keys, a little huffing and puffing from his primary captor, and the door flew open, bringing with it a new waft of putrefied air. Matthew stayed sitting on his crude bed, not bothering to stand as Edward and his companion, a new face to Matthew, though surely as inconsequential as all of the other minions before him, made their way into the small, circular room.
This new person stared at Matthew as if he was expecting something else, as if he had no idea what six months of confinement and torture could do to anyone, even a king. It took a quick blow from Edward to make the younger man remember himself.
“Well, Your Majesty,” Edward began in his snarly croak of a voice, “how did you get along in the storm last night?”
“Slept like a baby,” Matthew chided. He still didn’t move. No reason to waste energy on these two, not yet.
“I find that very unlikely,” Edward said, his eyes flickering from the soggy bed sheets to the puddles still accumulated under the arrow slits on the floor.
Matthew ignored him, sitting with his knees bent, arms hung loosely as if nothing horrible was about to happen.
“Matthew, this is my….” Edward seemed to be struggling for the right word, and Matthew wondered why, though he wasn’t about to ask. “Associate, Sir Reginald Cuthbert.” Perhaps the nearness of the Arterian Army had Edward questioning his relationship with a commander in his own kingdom’s defenses.
Cuthbert slowly nodded at Matthew, his demeanor beginning to change, as if he was suddenly remembering that he was an officer in the army, a man of power, a man with a purpose. And his purpose just now was to hurt King Matthew of Zurconia, to hurt him and make him pay for his brother’s recent victory.
Occasionally, Matthew would entertain himself by acting overly formal when being introduced to one of the men whose sole purpose in meeting him was to beat the bloody hell out of him. Today, he was not in the mood. He was ready to just get it over with. He met Cuthbert’s eyes with an equally steel-like stare, held his gaze for a moment, and waited for the other man to look away. It did not take long. Cuthbert was weak. No wonder Caleb was able to decimate his army so easily. If only Matthew had had any sort of understanding of the forces he was dealing with before Zurconia was overrun by these ill-trained, but staggeringly plentiful, barbarians, perhaps he would not be sitting a captive today.
Edward seemed to notice Cuthbert’s state of intimidation and became even more irritated. Nevertheless, Matthew was about to pay for his brother’s transgressions, even if Edward had to mete the punishment out himself. “We are in need of your assistance, Your Royal Highness,” Edward stated, his words dripping with sarcasm and loathing. “It seems that your older brother has somehow gotten his hands on some very important architectural renderings of battlements. Perhaps, you might have some idea as to where he obtained these sketches and what other information he may have managed to procure.”
Matthew chuckled loudly, despite the fact that he knew it would only anger Edward, which it did. He laughed even more to see Edward’s jaw tense up and a bright hue of red begin to creep up his wrinkly, wart-covered neck. “I apologize, but I really cannot be of assistance with that. However, it is nice to know Caleb has his sources.”
Matthew actually didn’t believe for a second that his older brother was able to gain victory because some disgruntled member of the royal family had leaked information to him. No, he was quite sure that Caleb’s army would be able to defeat Philip’s troops in almost any circumstance simply because Caleb was hell-bent on releasing Matthew from this prison. That, and there simply was no stronger military mind in the world than Caleb of Arteria.
It was just a matter of time.
For now, it seemed Matthew was out of that particular commodity.
The king watched between narrowed eyes as Cuthbert removed a gauntlet and stepped forward. Matthew braced himself for what he knew was coming. There was little he could do but sit and take it, and as the soldier raised his hand to swing, the captive king held his gaze. This may be Edward’s only measure of satisfaction, but Matthew refused to let them see him flinch.
If Katherine had been praying for a sign, then surely she had received one, although this was not exactly what she’d had in mind. She’d waited about an hour for the two men to finally come out of the secret tunnel in the wall. Interestingly enough, the stone she needed to push so that the wall would open up had actually moved when Edward and Cuthbert came back out, so she was easily able to tell what she needed to do to find Matthew. Beyond that, they had left a trail, a sticky, red, coagulated trail. Dark crimson splashes lined the floor all the way up the secret staircase, turning and winding, sometimes dripping from one cold stone step to the next, leading right to a solid oak door with a slight slit, just wide enough for a small dish. Behind it, even from her position several steps from the landing at the top of the stairs, she could hear what sounded like muffled moans coming from the poor soul locked on the other side.
